The Man-Killer Bear
by AreiaCannaid
Summary: There have been a series of disappearances and deaths around Redmont and it's up to Halt and his apprentice to discover the cause and put a stop to it. But with Gilan only months away from finishing his apprenticeship, strain brought on by the promise of upcoming change has a way of getting in the way. (Based off of, and inspired by, a scene mentioned in book 7)
1. Chapter 1

**The Man-killer Bear**

 **A/N:** I honestly have no idea what this is. I really should be doing my homework... oh well XD Though, to be honest, the idea has been buzzing around in the back of my mind for quite a while. Ever since I read book 7, I thought that it would be a very fun little tale indeed if it were ever to be expanded. Anyhow, I did have a lot of fun writing this—It was a good way to take my mind off things for a while. And it is my dearest wish that this little short will be as fun to read as it was to write.

 **Disclaimer:** I have nothing but respect for John Flanagan's stories… I absolutely don't own anything, not RA, and definitely none of the characters or places therein. And I certainly do not profit from this in any way, aside from my own enjoyment- and hopefully the enjoyment of others.

 **Summary:** There have been a series of disappearances and deaths around Redmont and it's up to Halt and his apprentice to discover the cause and put a stop to it. But with Gilan only months away from finishing his apprenticeship, strain brought on by the promise of upcoming change has a way of getting in the way. (Based off of, and inspired by, a scene mentioned in book 7)

 _Gilan put a hand on Halt's shoulder. It was a strange sensation, he thought, advising the man he respected more than any other._

 _'You knew the time would come when you'd have to let him go, Halt. You can't be around to protect him for the rest of his life. That's not why you trained him to be a Ranger. You tried to do that with me, Remember?'_

 _Halt looked up sharply at that. Gilan was still smiling as he answered Halt's unasked question._

 _'In the last few months of my apprenticeship, you started mother-henning me something terrible," he said. "Remember that man-killer bear we had to track down? You tried to leave me back at Redmont under some pretext or other.'_

 _Halt frowned, thinking hard. Had he really done that? He had to admit that he might have._

-Ranger's Apprentice Book 7 Erak's Ransom

* * *

 **The Man-Killer Bear**

The rider made his way along the wooded path at a canter, the dark and brooding sky overhead matching the grim expression in his face. Halt was on his way back to his little cabin after a rather lengthy and sobering meeting with the Baron of Redmont. He felt the frown deepen as he thought of it.

He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. He eased Abelard out of his steady canter when they reached the little clearing where his cabin was situated. He frowned slightly again. It was just before noon. That was odd; his apprentice should have been outside in the clearing at this time of day, practicing his weapon skills.

He heard Blaze call a horsey greeting to them from the stable, alerting him to the fact that Gilan hadn't gone off somewhere. He put Abelard in the stable next to Blaze but left him saddled; he'd need him again soon anyways. Still wondering why Gilan was not out in the yard, he mounted the steps to the cabin. He opened the door and raised an eyebrow at the sight that greeted his eyes.

He was more than a little surprised to see the apprentice in question sitting at the table, books and charts spread out before him, drafting compass, charcoal and angle stick in hand, north seeker set carefully before him. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he painstakingly tried to copy one of the charts in question. He looked at his north seeker and then back to his own large sheet of paper. He then used his drafting compass, his angle stick and the charcoal to carefully transcribe several lines. He glanced up as Halt entered, offering him a quick smile of greeting before focusing back in on the task at hand.

As Halt made his way to the table, he was even more surprised to see that Gilan had already finished a rather detailed and accurately drawn chart of the clearing, cabin, and foot-trails around it. Chart making, Halt knew, had always been one of Gilan's least favorite subjects. Yet here he was, studying it more than diligently at the expense of subjects he liked better, like weapons skills.

Halt frowned a little then. It was unusual. In fact, as he thought about it, Gilan had been behaving a little unusually for the past couple months. He suspected that there was something bothering the youth; but whenever he came close to broaching the subject, his apprentice had responded with some humorous observation, or good-natured jibe, that diverted the issue. Halt had a suspicion as to what was troubling him though, and supposed he could bring it up. But, at the same time, he was also sure that Gilan would tell him when he was ready to, and not a moment sooner.

Gilan let out his breath in a sound of annoyance as he messed up one of the lines he was transcribing. He set the charcoal down. He turned his attention, and a far more genuine smile, towards his mentor.

"I made some coffee a while ago, but I didn't know you'd be gone as long as you were. You might have to re-warm it."

He saw Halt nod thanks at him as he went into the small kitchen.

"That chart of yours isn't half-bad," Halt said mildly as he passed.

Gilan felt himself flushing slightly at the scant words of praise. Coming from the grim Ranger, it was a rare thing indeed.

"Though I don't recall the south trail being two degrees off east of south," he added.

And Gilan felt the pleasure recede into a knotted feeling in his stomach, not so very different from the feeling he got just before a battle—though it had really nothing to do with Halt's last statement—he'd been expecting that after all. Over the past five years he had gotten to know Halt well enough to be attuned to his ways…

Five years…He winced slightly at the thought. He'd been Halt's apprentice for five years. In just about a month he'd be given his final assessment which, if he passed, would grant him the rank of a fully fledged Ranger—and all the responsibilities that came with it. It was actually that which had driven him to stay indoors and study instead of going out to practice his weapons skills. He considered chart making to be, undoubtedly, his worst subject. He was, therefore, trying his best to insure he would not outright fail when he would be tested on it at the Gathering.

Though Gilan was not to know it, his chart making skills were actually on par with, if not, in some cases, surpassing most the current Rangers in the Corps. He had a pretty decent head for numbers and calculations as well as fair skill as an artist. Both these skills translated well to the task.

Gilan did know that he wasn't completely hopeless at it. However, when compared to Halt…compared to Halt…Gilan winced again and stared at his transcribed chart, trying to figure out a way to fix the line that he had messed up. He was aware of his mentor returning to the table and taking the seat across from him.

"So, chart making?" Halt asked, taking a sip of the fragrant coffee.

"I thought I could use the practice," Gilan replied cheerfully.

Halt nodded, "That's certainly true."

Gilan laughed, "You're not supposed to agree."

"The south trail still isn't two degrees off east of south."

"I'm fairly sure nobody but you would notice, let alone care," Gilan said waving his hand to the side. "Stop nitpicking me."

"Your fault for gathering the nits to begin with," Halt replied, before adding in a more serious tone, "What about your weapons practice?"

"I already did it," the apprentice responded, "though not for as long as usual," he gestured to the charts, "I didn't think you'd mind, so long as I was studying."

"And what about the chores?"

"I did them all this morning," Gilan said, wondering just where Halt was going with this line of questions.

"And you're sure of that, are you?"

Gilan's smile faded slightly and his brow furrowed as he thought back, then followed Halt's pointed gaze to the stove where the cook pot rested in all its un-scoured glory. His grin returned wider than ever as he saw it.

"Oh, that," he replied dismissively.

"Yes, that," Halt said, a warning hint of danger coming into his voice which Gilan ignored.

"I thought I'd spare you the shock of having to look at your reflection in it. It's never a good thing."

It was an old joke between them that had originated during Gilan's first days as an apprentice.

"That may be true," Halt said, shooting him a withering glare, "but if that pot doesn't get clean, I might have to spare you the sight of supper."

"But, Halt, that would deprive you too," Gilan pointed out, already rising from his seat to tend to it.

All the while he wondered how could he ever tell Halt that he hadn't intentionally forgotten, or rather overlooked it, because he had been over-studying, and over-thinking on other matters—over-thinking because he was afraid he wasn't ready.

The Gathering and the test was only a short time away. For all the years of his training, he'd seen the final assessment as his finish line. But he realized now that it wasn't an end. It would merely mark his passage into another, more challenging, phase of life.

What would he do when he got his own fief? What would he do without Halt to advise him, to help clear up the mistakes he made? He had been trained by one of the most legendary Rangers in the Corps. And he realized now that, when he got his own fief, people would be expecting a lot of him. In short, they'd be expecting him to be Halt. And Gilan knew that, no matter how hard he studied or tried, that was something he could never do. In fact, he seriously doubted that there was anyone who could.

Gilan trusted and respected Halt more than anyone, and yet he still couldn't bring himself to admit these thoughts and feelings to him. How could he ever tell the grizzled Ranger that he felt unready, or even tell him why? There were just some things that an apprentice just couldn't share with their master. All these thoughts flashed across his mind as he headed towards the cook pot. He was shaken from them however, when Halt spoke.

"Leave it for now, Gilan," Halt said suddenly. "Something has just come up."

He sat back down and faced his teacher, waiting for him to continue.

"I just got word from the Baron. It appears he's in need of someone with the skills of a Ranger, and it's a fairly urgent matter."

"When do we leave?" Gilan asked, eager at the prospect of a mission, and already rising from his seat again to get his traveling kit.

"We aren't leaving anywhere," his mentor said, stopping him short.

"What? But you said—"

"Since I obviously wasn't clear the first time: We aren't going. _I_ will be going on this one alone, and you will be staying here."

Gilan frowned slightly, confused. He hadn't been left behind while Halt went on a mission since he had been a second year apprentice. And Halt's short tone was one that brooked no argument.

"May I ask why?" he said finally, giving Halt an odd look.

"You're not needed on this one, and I have something I need you to do here."

Gilan nodded slightly. That made sense.

"What's come up here?" he asked then.

"The annual Battleschool report is due and I haven't got around to finishing it yet. It'll be late if I wait to do it until I get back. I don't believe I have to tell you how uptight Battlemaster Norris gets when reports are late."

And so saying, Halt rifled through some papers until he found the Battleschool report in question and handed it to the youth, ignoring the slight trace of confusion and hurt lurking in his eyes. He then moved to gather the supplies he needed.

There was a short moment of irritation when he could not find the map he wanted; until he realized that it was the map Gilan had already brought out to copy. He carefully refolded it and made his way out of the cabin and towards the stables. Abelard stood as he had left him, fully saddled and ready to go. He guided the little horse out of the stables and out into the clearing before mounting.

Abelard swung his head around slightly to look at him.

 _Are Gilan and Blaze not coming?_

"Not this time," Halt said gruffly.

 _Why not?_

 _Because he's just a boy,_ Halt wanted to say but didn't.

The truth was that, when he had first left the castle, he had had full intentions to bring Gilan with him on this mission. And yet, when the time had come, he'd changed his mind. He had found that he truly wasn't in favor of the idea at all. The task he faced now was an unpleasant one; one that had the potential to be very dangerous. There had been a series of unexplained deaths. Several foresters and small game hunters had gone missing without a trace. The incidents had ranged all over the fief.

Hunting and forestry was a potentially hazardous job. So, at first, the people had not taken serious notice of it. Which led to the heart of the problem: by the time the missing men's companions and family had come to the Baron or to Halt to report the loss, the trail had already gone cold. All Halt and Gilan had found in each of these sites had been the remnants of clothing, weapons, and skeletons—the bones of which had already been scattered far and wide by forest scavengers. What they hadn't found was any sign of what had killed the men.

Halt remembered thinking that the first two incidents could very well have been chance. As he had pointed out, forestry was a potentially perilous job. But, as soon as he received news of the third, it had all bordered far too close on coincidence—and Halt didn't really believe in coincidence.

Consequently, he had kept his eyes and ears open, something that was almost second nature for a Ranger after all. As soon as he had heard another mention of a forester gone missing, he'd taken his apprentice immediately to the spot where the hunter had reportedly vanished in an attempt to track him. However, on the way over, it had started to rain very heavily, totally obliterating any tracks they might have found.

It had been the sight of ravens circling that had ultimately led the two of them to the fourth body. It had been slightly fresher than the other three; but the wildlife had already scattered and scavenged most of it into oblivion. He and his apprentice had scoured around the area looking for any clues. All they had found was slight evidence that something large might have passed trough: breaks in low hanging branches and damaged leaves.

They had added that small amount of information to the other small traces they had managed to glean from other sites: a scratched tree and clump of black fur. But there hadn't been any way to tell for sure if those clues were actually related to the men's deaths. Despite that, on their way back from investigating the fourth victim, Halt had been fairly sure that those deaths didn't have anything to do with random chance, nor any human perpetrator. He'd had harbored a vague idea that they were dealing with a bear. That suspicion had been confirmed early this very morning when a messenger had come from Redmont castle to report a fifth victim. Fifth and six, he found when he reached the castle.

A small game hunter had been out with his friend when he was attacked by an absolutely massive back bear. One man had been killed and the other had barely escaped with his life by taking to a boat filled with a few more of his friends who had been waiting for them in a nearby river. They had only just managed out-row the massive beast when it had tried to swim after them. The young man who had escaped was currently in the castle's infirmary. And the healers were fairly certain that, if he lived, he'd be crippled for life. Halt felt a twisting feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he thought of it, and the other victims and their families.

Now that they were certain that there was a bear on the loose—a bear that seemed to have developed a taste for men—the Baron, his senior staff, and Halt had deemed it a serious threat to the people of Redmont and decided that something needed to be done about it.

As a Ranger, Halt knew it was his duty to track the beast, find its layer—if it had one—and then lead the castle's knights against it. He had done something similar a few times in the past when a dangerous wild boar had been spotted. But this was all together worse than a wild boar, bad as those were. From what he'd seen of the injured young man, and based on what that man and his fishermen friends had described, this bear seemed to be only a few steps away from being nearly as large and dangerous as a Kalkara.

His mind flew back towards the sight of that young man lying in the castle infirmary, barely clinging to life. That young hunter wasn't all that much older than Gilan...

 _Why not?_ Abelard asked again, when Halt said nothing.

"I think it's better if we handle this one ourselves, Abelard."

His horse seemed to accept that answer. Together they traveled towards the spot where the young game hunter and his friends had encountered the monster. He glanced up once at the brooding sky as a light drizzle began to fall.

 **~x~X~x~**

Gilan sat at the table, staring blankly at the report in front of him, and chewing absently on his thumbnail. He let out his breath in a low huff before he slapped both hands down on the table, causing the ink bottle and quill pen to jump slightly. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He cast one more resentful glance at the half-filled out piece of paper before he made his way into the cabin's kitchen and set water to boil of coffee. As he waited, he found himself pacing slightly.

Gilan was no fool; excuse about Battlemaster Norris's low tolerance of tardiness and negligence or no, he knew what busywork equated to and this was it.

He'd just been sidelined. And worse still, he couldn't find the reason why it had happened. He supposed it wouldn't bother him as much if he knew that it had happened because of some irresponsible mistake he'd made. But he could not recall doing any such thing. The worst offence he could think of was his forgetting to scour the cook pot this morning. And that couldn't be it.

Why, after the five years he had been his apprentice, had Halt had simply left him behind with the busywork? Why had he left him behind without so much as an explanation? Did he just not trust him enough to let him know what was really going on? Unless…a sudden doubt filled his mind—unless Halt had left him behind because he thought that he wasn't ready or capable enough to face whatever it was he was facing.

He frowned then. For months now he had been worrying that he wasn't ready to be a full-fledged Ranger, to have a fief of his own. Realizing the possibility that Halt had left him behind because he thought so too, made Gilan sink back down into the pine chair, feeling lower than he had in ages, while the self doubt ate away at him like some infectious disease.

He shook his head abruptly and rose to his feet with the report in hand. He really knew better than to let self doubt get the better of him like this. He needed something to do. There were a few questions on the report that he had purposely left blank because he didn't have the knowledge off the top of his head. He decided then to travel the short way to Redmont's Battle School. No matter his reasons, Halt had given him the task of filling out this report and the least he could do would be to do it accurately. He chuckled wryly at the thought. Besides, both he and Blaze could use the exercise.

He was let through into the castle a short while later without comment aside from a few friendly greetings. Once inside, he left Blaze in the stables and headed off towards the training grounds, cadet's barracks, officer's quarters, and instruction halls with the report in hand.

He arrived in time to see the afternoon sword drill. He was walking past the all too familiar scene, looking for Sir Rodney's quarters, when he very nearly ran into the Battlemaster in question.

"Ah, Gilan, is it?" Sir Rodney asked. "I nearly didn't see you there. What brings you here? I thought you'd be out with Halt."

"Well, Sir, Halt wanted me to fill out a report for him while he's gone. Speaking of which, I was actually looking for you."

"Something I can help you with?" Rodney asked then.

"Yes, Sir. If you've the time, I have a few questions I'd like to ask."

The knight nodded, "I'll have time enough in an hour or so. What exactly is this report of yours?"

"The annual Battleschool report for Sir Norris."

Rodney's expression turned slightly puzzled.

"Halt has already come to ask me a question for that report about a week ago. I thought he finished it already."

"Halt told me he hadn't even started it," Gilan replied, just a puzzled, his mind working at this new information.

Not only had he been sidelined and given the busywork, it seemed to be totally pointless busywork at that. As he thought it, his mind began rapidly putting together vague pieces of the past couple of weeks together to form a cohesive picture.

"He's going after a bear, isn't he," he asked the knight.

Sir Rodney looked puzzled again, "You mean he didn't tell you?"

And when Gilan shook his head Rodney explained about the most recent attack and the man currently in the castle infirmary.

"Halt said he was going to track it and find its layer or general location for we knights to hunt and kill."

 _Like a boar hunt but more dangerous,_ Gilan thought.

"Well, thanks anyway," Gilan said, folding the useless report and stuffing it into the breast of his leather jerkin.

As he left the castle on Blaze he found himself thinking, his expression uncharacteristically grim. He was angry. It annoyed him that, after all they had been through, all they battles they had fought side by side, Halt had pigeonholed him, decided to leave him behind so he could go it alone.

It didn't even matter what the reasoning behind Halt's choice had been because, apart from irritating him, it also worried him. He'd seen the remains of those foresters. He had also just heard the gruesome details of the young hunter barely clinging to life in the infirmary from Rodney. He couldn't let Halt face this battle alone. He wouldn't let him face it alone. Halt was his mentor—almost a second father to him. But, more than that, he was a friend. Gilan's place would always be at his side. He was going after him.

All he had to do was find out where his mentor was headed. And he remembered seeing something that morning that told him exactly where to look. When Gilan reached the cabin, he dismounted and ran inside to grab his kit, his north seeker, and his half finished chart, before dashing back outside and remounting Blaze.

"Come on girl," he said, urging her into the Ranger horses' infamous ground eating lope. Even at that pace, he was worried that he might not make it in time.

 _I hope you've thought this through._

"So do I," he told his horse, a smile spreading across his face. "We'll find out soon enough if I haven't," he added.

 _That's very comforting._

"That's what I thought."

 _And that's why I'm worried._

He chuckled grimly, knowing he would never get the last word with his horse.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! I really hope everything seemed believable and in character (I'm always super worried about that...)As an aspiring author I really appreciate feedback and constructive criticism. Please let me know if you think I can improve anywhere- so I can fix it :) I hope you all have really amazing weeks. Thanks again!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Here is the second and last chapter. I took a bit of creative license when it came to the size of the bear... though, to be fair, John Flanagan does that a few times himself with the giant boars and snow leopard respectively, so I feel that I can get away with it. Thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited and reviewed. It really means a lot.

 **TheRanger'sDaughter:** Thanks for the review! I've always wondered about it myself too—and the whole of his apprenticeship actually. Thanks again!

 **TrustTheCloak:** I hope this is quick enough for you XD Thanks for the compliment and the review—I really hope I don't disappoint. Awww thanks, might I just say that you are one of my favorite writers in the fandom too.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

After Halt had found the site where the foresters had been ambushed, he had found tracks fresh enough to follow, and follow easily. They had led him deeper into the woods, heading eastward until they reached the edge of a deep dried out ravine. They had turned northward then, traveling parallel with the ravine. Halt followed the tracks for a few kilometers before he reigned in and dismounted.

The drizzle that had set in earlier in the day, had already begun soaking into the loamy earth. He was grateful it was just a drizzle and not rain, for the prints were still easy to see. He looked closely at them, trying to judge just how long it had been since the bear had passed through here. The hunters had not been exaggerating much when they had described its size. The prints were massive.

He rose from his crouch, stroking Abelard's neck as he decided what to do next. The trial went straight ahead and into a large deadfall. This was why he had stopped. The trunks of long dead trees covered most the ground. In some places they were set between the trunks of their still-living neighbors.

He wouldn't be able to take Abelard with him in there he knew. His horse would not be able to find good footing, and he could very well break a leg if he tried. That left only one other option. Halt would have to head into that deadfall and track the bear on foot.

He supposed that he could try to carefully skirt the perimeter to look for the bear's exit tracks. But that could take hours that he did not have. On top of that, those would be wasted hours if the bear's layer was somewhere in that deadfall.

Abelard shifted slightly and let out a low grumbling sound. It was more of a complaint than a warning call. Halt reached out to stroke the little horse's muzzle.

"I really don't like it much either."

And so saying, he dropped Abelard's reigns, gave him the stay signal, and then moved forward into the uneven ground. He stepped over fallen logs and sometimes walked on, or climbed over, them in places where they lay stacked haphazardly atop each other—like some larger version of scattered firewood. The light drizzle had made the decaying bark atop these logs slimy and fragile, so he often had to watch his footing. The way was slippery in paces, as well as unsteady.

So far, the wind was blowing from east to west. He knew that this was something he needed to be careful about. Bears had exceptional senses of smell; they could scent things from a kilometer and a half away. The wind had been a little finicky all day as it was slightly stormy. But he knew he was relatively safe at the moment—as the tracks were still heading north and the wind was not blowing in that direction. But if, as he was starting to suspect, the bear's layer was somewhere in this deadfall, he knew he would need to keep his senses on high alert. He gripped his bow a little tighter.

Halt continued to follow the tracks. He came upon a place where the forest floor was completely obscured by piled logs at the base of a hilly rise. They rose up a couple meters above the ground level he stood on, sloping gradually up like a hill. They then leveled out for several meters until they reached the sides of the hilly rise that backed them.

As the trees had died on the hill over the years, they had fallen down to the base of the hill and piled atop each other. The bear's tracks went up this pile of haphazardly staked timber. But it was the cave situated in the hilly rise that really caught his attention. The tracks led just in that direction, and there were numerous other older tracks and signs all around that alerted Halt to the fact that the bear frequented this area quite a lot.

All the signs pointed to the fact that this was probably this man-eater's layer. He stood still and listened, eyeing the dark opening mistrustfully. But everything there was quiet. Was the bear perhaps sleeping off the effects of his meal the day before? Sleeping or no, Halt had found what he came for. It wasn't a good situation. This huge deadfall would make it very hard to bring armored knights here to corner the beast.

He was suddenly assailed with some warning sense; something was wrong. Then he realized what it was. He began backing carefully away. The temperamental wind had shifted suddenly, so that it was now blowing towards the north—not a good thing, if the bear was in his layer.

But the bear wasn't in its layer. Halt froze and looked up abruptly as he heard the crunching passage of something very large up ahead.

Up on the hilly rise, he caught sight of the largest bear that he had ever seen. Its coat was thick and black, but scarred in several places. Each enormous paw was heavily clawed…and that immense bear seemed to have caught his scent. Its focus was fixed on him. He saw the animal bunch its enormously powerful muscles as it moved to charge him. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. He had seen many bears over the course of his lifetime, but none like this.

It bounded down the hilly rise and across the top of the stacked deadfall. It moved in that lumbering but terrifyingly powerful gait that bears have. Halt could just make out its maddened looking eyes. He wouldn't have time to run, he knew. And, even if he tried, the huge creature would easily be able to outpace him.

He knew that, under normal circumstances, the best way to deal with charging bears was to stand your ground, make lots of noise and charge it or make yourself look large and threatening—prey ran, predators attacked. It was the law of nature. Usually, that would be enough to frighten off a bear. But Halt knew instinctively that that would not work with this one. He could tell that this one was half mad. Not only that, but this one was used to hunting humans, this one preferred hunting humans. No: Halt knew that only thing he could do was to stand his ground and fight back. He took and arrow from his quiver and placed it upon the string.

The bear bounded forwards and Halt readied his bow, stepping back into an archer's stance as he aimed for the monster's left eye. He did not think his arrow would penetrate deeply enough to kill if he shot anywhere else. He knew instinctively the moment before he released his arrow that the shot would be good. Then everything went wrong.

The place on the fallen log that he had stepped back on was nothing more than a rotted shell. It held his weight for only a few moments before it gave way, sending his left leg crashing through it. There had been no real indication that that one patch in the middle had been rotted away so drastically on the inside — no way he could have foreseen and therefore prepared for and avoided it. He lost his balance and his shot flew wide, sailing harmlessly over the killer bear's head whilst he tried to regain his footing.

As the bear charged downwards, his massive weight dislodged one of the larger logs and it rolled. The bear snarled as it also lost its footing and tumbled down the rise of logs. Its rapid fall, along with the fall of the first log, were like the first clumps of snow that start an avalanche. The whole pile began to shift and roll as they came crashing down.

Halt tired to move out of the way but his foot was momentarily held fast in the hollow log. He pulled desperately, broke free, and leaped to his side. The motion probably saved his life. A huge log slammed down right where he had just been, crushing the one that had entrapped him. Fast as his leap to the side was, however, it wasn't fast enough to avoid the rest of the tumbling wood.

He went down amidst the thudding crash of colliding and falling timber. He felt a heavy impact and bit back a cry of pain. When the rolling and shifting finally stopped, he found himself lying on his back, his legs trapped underneath two medium sized logs. His bow lay about a meter to his left and his saxe and throwing knife were trapped underneath one of the logs that ensnared his legs—the one resting diagonally from his right thigh to his left hip.

Several of the logs had crashed into the enraged bear, but they did not trap it, or even seriously injure it. If anything, all it did was make the creature even more furious. Halt heard it let out a bellow of rage and pain as it tried to disentangle itself from the shifting unsteady pile. Once it freed itself, it turned its livid attention back onto Halt and began pacing towards him, building speed as it had done before. Halt tried to shift the logs off of him but it was no use. He bent as far as he could to the side then, desperately reaching for his bow.

The bear was barely seven meters from him. His fingertips brushed the very edge of the polished wood and he tried to sweep it closer to his hand, knowing that his life depended on it. For a moment it looked as if it was working... then it slipped from the grasp of his fingertips, falling further away from him than before. He glanced back towards the bear. It was directly in front of him now. It had come to a stop, raising one huge, heavily clawed forepaw up for a swipe. And Halt knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Suddenly, he heard a shout and the deep throated thrum of a longbow. The bear reared up, howling in pain as it whirled around, temporarily forgetting Halt as it faced its new attacker. As the bear turned, Halt saw the two goose-feathered shafts buried into the thick hide of the bear's back.

At the same time that he placed the shout and recognized the color of the painted shafts, he saw his apprentice standing about twenty meters away from the bear. Halt breathed silent thanks towards his young student as he let out the breath he had been holding. Somehow Gilan had managed to arrive to help just in the nick of time. In that moment, Halt did not really care how it had happened, he was just grateful that it had.

Another arrow was on Gilan's bowstring. It was already drawn back, the feathered ends brushing his cheek. Halt watched as Gilan stood, pale-faced, but unflinching in his archer's stance as the bear barreled towards him at top speed. His apprentice measured the movements of the bear's head and eyes as he prepared to loose his arrow; just as Halt had trained him to do: _better to fire one good shot than several hurried ones._

He saw the very subtle change in Gilan's body posture as he reached the natural pause between the inhale and the exhale that rendered him completely steady for the shot. He saw the fingers on his apprentice's right hand move as they began to release the tension stored in the string. Halt also saw the position of the bear's head from where he lay and knew that it would be a dead shot.

He felt some tension begging to drain from his body and just as suddenly build up again to a fever pitch. In the very moments that Gilan was preparing to release his shot, the bear's right paw hit one of the fallen logs on the side, causing it to move at an angle. Halt shouted his apprentice's name in desperate warning, but it was too late. The narrow log swept in an arc, slamming into Gilan's legs just as he let fly his arrow.

He was brushed right off his feet and he landed hard on his back, his breath leaving his body in a soft whoosh of air. His arrow, jerked from its precise aim, flew slightly wild, skimming across the bear's face and flying straight through its ear. But the bear did not so much as pause in its attack: its only thought to kill these puny creatures that had caused it so much pain. It moved forward in its charge, leaping up slightly to come down on where Gilan lay sprawled.

"Gilan!" The older Ranger pushed against the logs that held him fast, his teeth gritted.

The bear plunged downwards and Gilan rolled. The massive paws and teeth snapped down on empty air. Gilan finished the roll, rose to his feet, and drew his sword in one fluid motion. The bear was at close quarters, too close for his bow to be of any use.

It was like watching a nightmare dance, as his apprentice avoided and dodged the swiping paws and snapping jaws whilst trying to get in counter swings and watch his footing on the treacherous ground. He looked ridiculously small and thin compared to the massive muscled bulk of the monster. There were a few times that Halt lost sight of his apprentice all together, as he was blotted out by the bear's frame. Gilan's razor sharp blade drove into the bear several times and Halt saw blood; but it was nowhere near enough to stop the maddened beast. Gilan just couldn't allow himself to get close enough to drive in deep enough to kill.

Halt heaved with all his might against the logs that entrapped him as the battle ranged far and wide, with Gilan giving ground most of the time, backing closer and closer to the ravine that cut through the landscape. Halt managed to free his lower legs, and redoubled his efforts on the larger log.

His apprentice had nearly backed as far as he could go when one of the bear's attacks slipped past his guard. As Gilan dodged the snapping teeth, he was hit with a backhand blow. The weight of it sent him tumbling. He skidded to a stop on the very lip of the ravine. Halt saw Gilan's wide eyes flick from the monster bear approaching him and then toward a log that spanned the ravine. Halt saw his eyes narrow and his jaw set determinedly. In that instant Halt knew what he was thinking.

"Gilan, no!" he shouted, but Gilan either didn't hear him, or ignored him.

His apprentice pushed himself to his feet and began backing out onto the log, his sword pointed towards his foe. The bear hesitated for only a few moments before following the youth out onto the timber spanning the open air, the two of them balancing preciously on the shuddering length of wood.

The bear's claws digging into the wood gave it purchase, unlike Gilan's soft soled boots. Halt saw his apprentice teeter dangerously as he tried to keep his footing on the trembling beam. The log may have started out wide but it narrowed horribly as it grew closer to the opposing side of the gorge. It wouldn't hold all that weight for much longer.

Halt, using all the strength of his upper body, managed to lift the heavy length of wood that held him. It wasn't much, but it was just enough for him to squirm his way out. The bear raised a paw to swipe and Gilan just managed to duck and keep his feet as he continued backing. Halt grabbed his bow and fired arrow after arrow at the massive beast. Even from that distance, and odd angle, his arrows hit their mark, striking the monster in the side. It reared up a little, bellowing in pain. Gilan took the opening Halt had provided and hurled his sword with all his strength into the beast's middle.

Halt's heart seemed to stop beating as a shuddering crack split the air. The log, unable to support the weight atop it any longer, snapped. It splintered just under where the bear stood reeling, a little more than three quarters of the way across. Gilan had turned after he flung his sword and had begun running towards the opposing side. At the splintering sound of cracking, he hurled himself forward. He leaped towards the opposing wall as the flimsy bridge and bear tumbled down to the jagged rocks of the chasm below.

Time seemed to slow for Halt as he watched his apprentice's leap fall short and he too plummeted downwards.

"No..." he breathed in a stricken whisper.

He slung his bow over his shoulder and made his way to the ravine as quickly as he could. He ignored the pain of his badly sprained left ankle and bruised legs as he staggered towards the place where he had lost sight of his apprentice. He had seen how deep that ravine was on his way in. A lump caught in his throat as he finally made his limping way to the edge and looked over.

Shattered chunks of wood framed a huge black body that lay twisted and broken upon the rocks far below. Its hide was littered with arrows and Gilan's sword protruded out from its chest. He swept his gaze along the bottom, but there was nothing else lying broken upon the rocks below.

Halt's gaze moved upwards with disbelieving hope. There was a second lip that ran for quite a long ways on the opposite side of the gorge. It was about four meters below the first one. The shelf jutted out from the cliff edge for about five and a half meters and was dotted with a few gangly shrubs. Amidst the sparse vegetation Halt saw a familiar shape.

"Gilan?" He called across the gap that separated them, not caring that his voice cracked slightly. He felt himself breathe again as the shape moved, and then rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

"I'm alright, Halt," Gilan called back, "…only, I lost my favorite sword." He added his voice sounding annoyed.

Halt felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. For a moment, all he could think was that swords could be replaced. His legs suddenly felt week and he folded to his knees, blinking away the mist brought on by relief that had blurred his vision. He stayed that way for a few moments.

"Um, Halt, you don't happen to have any rope, do you?" Gilan called cheerily across the chasm.

Halt shot his reckless apprentice a glare that could kill even though he knew that he knew he wouldn't be able to see it from that distance. He was going to go grey far before his time.

Getting out, for Gilan, wasn't as tricky as it first appeared. Since they had no ropes, it consisted of him free climbing up to the first lip and then finding another log that spanned the gap. Within a few minutes he was back on the other side.

The cheery grin on his face faded rather quickly however, when he saw Halt still on the ground where he had seen him last. His mentor's left boot was off and his pant leg was rolled up, revealing a very swollen and bruised ankle and fairly nasty looking bruises mottling the rest of his leg as well.

Gilan let out a pent up breath as he moved quickly to kneel beside the grim and grizzled Ranger who had come to mean so much to him over the years. As he bent towards his mentor, he was already withdrawing a bandage from the medical kit he carried on his belt.

"Are you alright, Halt?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Do I look alright to you?" The grizzled Ranger asked, shooting him a glare.

As the shock of everything wore of he found that a small amount of anger was currently vying for a place among the relief off seeing his apprentice alive.

"Well, considering how you looked when I first found you, I'd say you look fairly decent." His apprentice said grinning, though the grin faded some when he caught the dangerous look in Halt's eyes. "Halt?"

"Considering how I looked?" Halt asked, his tone growing dangerous. "I've told you time and time again not to rush into things haven't I, Gilan? What exactly were you thinking with that stunt you just pulled? What would have happened if that ledge wasn't there?"he demanded.

"I knew it would be," his apprentice said calmly, correctly guessing the reason behind his mentor's anger, and simultaneously feeling the grin creeping back onto his face. "I just spent all morning copying a map of this area after all. I did have a bit of an idea of what I was doing."

And Halt, who had already opened his mouth to argue the point further, closed it as he realized that it was true. Not only that, but his apprentice had had the wherewithal and foresight to figure out exactly what was going on and where it was happening. And, on top of it all, he had probably saved Halt's life.

The older Ranger realized then that that wasn't at all surprising. Gilan really wasn't a boy anymore. He wasn't that kid that Halt had taken under his wing those five years ago. He had grown increasingly capable over the years and truly was a Ranger in everything but name. He had grown up, though Halt wasn't quite sure when it had happened. And he had grown up to be a person that Halt was proud of… and proud to know.

His expression softened as the anger left as quickly as it had come. He felt a sudden surge of affection for his student and put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Thanks for coming, Gilan," he said sincerely.

Gilan flashed him that wide familiar grin of his that Halt had somehow grown to be so fond of over the years. And then he caught a familiar spark of mischief in the youth's eyes as well.

"So does that mean you aren't going to be angry with me, despite the fact I followed you here instead of finishing the report you gave me?"

Halt raised an eyebrow, "don't push it."

He allowed Gilan to carefully bind the ankle and then help him to his feet. By the same token, he allowed the taller Ranger to lift him slightly so he supported him as they made their slow limping progress back to the horses.

He recognized that Gilan's slightly over-caring actions had sprung from a reaction to all that had happened: seeing his mentor injured after nearly seeing him killed, as well as nearly getting killed himself. And Halt couldn't deny that he needed the support; the footing to the edge of the deadfall was still as tricky as it had been before.

"So, when are you going to tell the Baron that you've spoiled all his knights' fun?"

"I seem to recall that you had a hand in it too," Halt pointed out.

"That's true, but it was still mostly your fault." Gilan chuckled. "I'll bet he'll make you fill out a report about it to get revenge- on top of the one you'll already have to write for Crowley."

Halt snorted, "I'm injured; you can write it for me."

 **~x~X~x~**

Gilan lay reclining with his hands pillowed behind the back of his head and one leg drawn up. Halt was resting; there was nothing wrong aside from the badly sprained ankle and the bruises. And judging by his mentor's grumpy responses that evening, Gilan was sure he was going to be alright.

It had been a long day and he was tired; but he couldn't seem to sleep. So he lay awake, thinking, staring absently at the wall of his small moonlit bedroom with the clarity that often comes with hindsight. Gilan was no fool, and he was highly observant on top of that.

He realized now that Halt hadn't left him behind because he didn't think he was ready or capable enough. He had left him behind because he'd been mother-henning him… again.

Halt had been doing that an awful lot lately after all. And Gilan just hadn't realized it for what it was today because he had been so absorbed in his own problems. And with the newfound sense of perception, which came from finally having a clear mind, he realized why Halt was doing it.

He found himself chuckling. It was comforting, in an odd sort of way, to know that Halt was having just as hard a time with his eventual going away as he was… though perhaps it wouldn't be quite as hard as he previously thought. Today had taught him something.

He did still have some reservations: fear of making mistakes or failing somehow. And he knew that he could never be Halt. Those boots were too big for anyone to fill—despite their small size. He could not help snickering at the thought.

But he had had the privilege of seeing how his mentor worked through a problem for five years. He had learned as much as he could in that time as well. He could never be Halt, but he could be Gilan. He could make a life for himself and he could learn from his mistakes. It was still scary, but not as scary as it had been.

He still didn't think he was ready enough to be a Ranger like Halt, but he was perhaps ready enough to try—to try to live like Halt had taught him, ready to learn and improve. He knew he would probably make mistakes, but he would cross those bridges when he came to them. So long as he never made the same mistakes twice, he was fairly sure he'd be alright. It wouldn't be easy, he knew, but that wasn't why he had chosen to be a Ranger.

In the next room over, Halt also could not sleep. All that had happened that day had successfully driven sleep from his mind as well. He sighed irritably and then gingerly rose to his feet, deciding abruptly that he needed a cup of coffee.

As he limped out of his room, he caught sight of the doorway to Gilan's room. He could not suppress the unconscious urge to check up on him. He peered inside slightly, expecting to see Gilan asleep, but he was not. A familiar voice met his ears.

"Did you finally get sick of looking at your reflection in the cook pot and come in search of something better?"

"It's not really much of an improvement," Halt said gruffly, but Gilan could read the smile behind his grave expression. They were well used to each other. Gilan rose to his feet, an impish smile on his face.

"I'll make the coffee."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! I really hope you all enjoyed this little short. As usual, feedback is really appreciated. Let me know if you think there's something I can improve upon. I hope you all have an amazing rest of the week!

I got a lot of inspiration for this chapter from all the hiking trips I went on when the weather was warmer (living by the mountains is awesome). Nature is super beautiful and deadfalls are pretty cool. I saw my fair share of black-bears too, but they were all fairly small and none of them were interested in charging me- thankfully XD Thanks again!

 **~ATGTJ~**


End file.
